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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27647846">Mars Ain't the Kind of Place to Raise Your Kids</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsocoolio/pseuds/notsocoolio'>notsocoolio</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bands, Child Neglect, Friendship, Gen, Inspired by Music, Music, Piano</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:07:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,296</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27647846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsocoolio/pseuds/notsocoolio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>One night, age five, Draco sneaks out of his room to explore the manor. He discovers the joy of music.</p>
<p>Ten years later and he's playing concerts in the room of requirement with the Golden Trio.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy &amp; Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy &amp; Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger &amp; Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger &amp; Harry Potter &amp; Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. In fact it's cold as hell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>disclaimer: I don't really know how to play the piano though I have taken lessons and know how to read music</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>For the first five years of his life, Draco’s world spun only in two places: his crib and his playroom.<br/>
</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But one night, four days following his fifth birthday, Draco slipped under his house elf’s constant vigilance and snuck out of his room. As he walked down the long hallways that made up the manor, tip toeing and trying to be as quiet as possible, he marveled the sight of what the world outside his room looked like. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Of course he'd known there was a world outside his room, but he could not remember having seen it before. The playroom he was allowed in was attached to his room, after all, so he’d never before left that space. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was a miracle he knew there was a world outside his vision at all, even. The only reason he knew there was a world beyond the four walls of his room was due to his parents. Though for a very long time he thought that his parents lived in his playroom, and just hid somewhere whenever he came in to play. He would still check everywhere in the room for them to this day, despite knowing better, and he had yet to find them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He thought now that they only came when they wanted to, from some unknowable place beyond his room.<br/>
</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His mother would come once a month, read Draco a story, hand the house elves his lessons for the day, and then leave Draco with only a kiss on the forehead. Draco had no sense of time, though, so every wait in between felt like years. He had no idea when she would appear again, and since her new routine had only been going for the year that Draco had started his schooling, he had little idea that there even was a routine. Despite all of this, he always looked forward to her visits.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His father, however, had only visited once, on his second birthday that he barely remembered. The only thing from that day that stuck with him was his father’s disappointed face. This would be the only memory he had of his father until he would turn seven and experienced his first bout of accidental magic, three years later than any other kids his age, and two years in the future from this moment. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His isolation was still evident in his psyche however, since despite hearing about it in his story books, he did not yet believe there was anything outside of the manor. Not that he had really conceptualized the space outside of his room being anything like he was seeing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The hallways he traveled down were lined with portraits, ones like the painting of the dragon in his room, all sleeping soundly for the night, their figures moving occasionally as they shifted in their sleep. Draco made extra sure not to make a sound every time he passed one.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Some paintings were landscapes, and the skies in them twinkled as the trees ruffled in the wind. Draco spent a long time staring at these paintings, wondering what the force was that was moving the trees. This was not his first time seeing a tree, since his dragon had a tree that he liked to scratch his back on. Draco thought it was very funny every time his dragon would do that, and often spent many hours, just like now, staring at his painting waiting for the dragon to do something. Sometimes his dragon would stare right back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Draco eventually moved on from the paintings, descending down a long marble staircase into what he would eventually come to know as the parlor. He didn’t touch anything, knowing from his etiquette lessons that it would be rude to do so without permission. He quickly moved on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He saw many closed doors on his exploration of the manor that night, but he never entertained the thought of opening even one. He wasn’t entirely sure how to do so, and in any case, it was rude. What if there was someone on the other side?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But one door, and only one door, was left open. It was upstairs, on the level above his bedroom that he eventually backtracked towards in order to explore it. Unbeknownst to him, this room was always left open, his father barely even remembering it was there. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Draco’s father did not often visit the attic, and the room that Draco was currently in was considered a part of the attic. It was the uppermost floor of the manor, and it held very bad memories for Lucius. This floor was where his room had been when he was a teenager, and it would eventually be where Draco’s room was held. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The room Draco was currently in, however, was the music room. Lucius had only had four music lessons as a child, and having no talent for it, had promptly quit at the age of seven. The piano in the room had not been touched since, and only a half-hearted preservation spell performed by Lucius’s mother before her death had managed to keep the piano from going too far out of tune. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The piano sat in the middle of the room, surrounded on one side by large windows overlooking the gardens, and on all other sides by bookshelves filled with sheets of music and books on spells relating to the wizarding musical arts of Britain, France, and Italy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Draco had no idea what any of this was, of course. He had never heard a note of music in his life and had never seen a musical instrument before. But something compelled him to step up to the piano, and press his finger onto one of the keys. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Plink!</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A sound unlike any Draco had heard before resonated from the big, black piano in front of him. He startled back, wrenching his hand away. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But still, clutching his hand as if it were burned, Draco stared in wonderment at the piano, taking in the ivory white keys, standing stark in the dark of the room. Tentatively, he reached out a finger and plunked out a new note, startling at the different sound produced. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Draco suddenly remembered his lessons. He stood up straight, having hunched over the keys before, and looked around wildly, his eyes darting back and forth, everything in his posture resemblant of a prey deer, startled by its hunter. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, he calmed again, confident no one was coming and that he was alone. Shyly, he sat down at the bench in front of the piano. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The bench had not been adjusted since his father had sat on it his last day of lessons, and at age seven he was only a bit taller than Draco was now. Draco’s feet dangled above the ground, but he could see the keys, and though he had to reach up for them, he started to play. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t good, of course. If anyone else were in the room they’d be begging him to stop, but his parents' rooms were so far away, on the other side of the manor, that they could not hear him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He plunked out notes one by one at first, absorbed by the sound of them reverberating in the small room, charmed to have the perfect acoustics despite its set up and size. Eventually Draco looked up inside the piano and saw the strings moving when he hit a note. He spent a very long time absorbed by this, though he eventually moved on to the little black keys above the big white ones he had previously been playing with. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He started trying multiple notes at once, making absolutely no harmonies, having no understanding of music in any form. He did notice, however, that some combinations sounded better than others and tried to produce more of these sounds. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, after a very long time of playing, Draco lost all of his inhibitions and started trying every key at once, and then tried playing from the bottom up and vice versa. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>By the time the sun started coming up, despite all the racket he’d been making, Draco still had not been found. And despite being very very sleepy, Draco had not yet given up on the wonder of the piano. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had eventually started noticing some patterns, places where notes put together sounded better. Draco only knew how to count to ten, but he started counting the notes and what numbers would sound good together. Three notes apart, two, four, and ones right next to each other. And despite still playing with pointed fingers plunking one note at a time, his playing, by that time, <em>might</em> not have caused any bystander a migraine.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then, when daylight first started streaming into the room, the sun fully risen, his mother found him.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I'm Still Standing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Draco has his first music lesson</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>disclaimer again for me not knowing anything music very well</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Five days out of his seventh birthday, and Draco’s world had expanded exponentially. He was now allowed free range of the manor and grounds, his whining having finally prompted his mother to just open the door and say “shoo”. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>That had been his first birthday present, the second was his first bout of accidental magic inspired by the wonder of being outdoors. He’d been so happy he was literally glowing, and it had finally caught his father’s attention. His third and final gift had been his first hug from his father. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now that he was allowed outdoors, he spent nearly every waking minute outside. Especially since the new freedom came with new responsibilities. Now he had more lessons, ones on magic and history and math that he found so, so boring. His first lesson he had fallen asleep, but the sharp crack of a ruler against his desk had taught him to never allow that to happen again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>On his third day of lessons ever, today, Draco would be having his first music lesson. Lucius had almost just skipped over this part of Draco’s education, never having had the talent himself, but Narcissa had insisted. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The best part was, Draco got these lessons from his mother! He only got them once a week, but on that day he was allowed to sit next to his mother and play on the piano. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the two years since his first exploration of the manor Draco had not played the piano, and he was very excited to do so again. He had been unable to stop thinking about it since he got back to his room that night, and once he learned what a piano and music were, he’d begged his house elf to sing him songs, tell him stories about musicians, and to let him play the piano again. Only the first two of those three requests had been granted, until now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On top of all of that--the freedom, the new lessons, and the time with his mother--Draco’s room had been moved. He now had a bed in the farthermost room on the top floor of the manor, and he no longer had a playroom. His father said he was too old for toys now, and that magic, studying, and being outdoors would be sufficient pastimes for him. And he wasn’t wrong. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Draco was more stimulated with this new, free environment than he had ever been trapped in those two rooms with only a rotating staff of three house elves and visits from his mom once a month. He might have had toys to play with, and he would miss those, but now he could play outside! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sure, he was alone more often now since the house elves no longer had to look after him so closely, but he got fresh air and he could play on his piano! What more could Draco want?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>More music lessons, as it turned out, because as Draco would soon learn, one day a week playing the piano was not enough. He was once again infatuated with the piano, following his first lesson. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And here’s how that lesson went:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Draco’s mother led him by the hand to the music room, with a short “Come, child,” his only warning as he was whisked away from his normal lessons. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He proceeded to follow his mother like a duckling, clutching her hand tightly with excitement as they went up the stairs and rounded the corner to a familiar hallway. As they came upon the familiar doorway, Draco was nearly vibrating with excitement. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Calm down, Draco,” his mother said as she opened the door and herded him to the bench sat in front of the piano. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’re we gonna learn first, mother?” Draco asked excitedly as she turned to dig around in one of the bookcases lining the walls of the room. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think we’ll start you on learning to read music, and maybe some simple chords,” she said lightly, pulling a slim book bound in leather from one of the shelves, “and remember to enunciate, darling, it is unbecoming of a boy your age to not be speaking clearly and concisely.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She walked back to Draco, placed the book on the music stand, opened it to the first page, and then sat down next to Draco, who asked her “<em> You can read music </em>?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, of course you can darling or how else would you be able to play it?” she answered dismissively, and then proceeded to start the lesson, “Now, first things first, we need to teach you what notes are.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are they the white things here?” Draco asked, plunking down one key delicately. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, those are the keys,” she answered, “Notes denote the sound of music, with each note specifying pitch.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She pointed to the diagram on the book’s first page. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See this table? The notes only go by letters from a to g, so sometimes they repeat themselves. We use this table to see how high and low each note is. Take the not A for example, there’s a lower A, which sounds like this,” here she plunked a key on the piano, “and there is a higher a, which sounds like this,” and this time she plunked a different key, “See how they sound different?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At this, Draco nodded his head. Of course he did, the first one was deeper and the second was a lot higher pitched. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, the first one is lower on the scale, here,” she pointed to the second space on the scale, “While the first one is up here,” and she pointed to a space above the scale, “the place on the scale shows you how high the note is. On the scale there are four spaces and five lines, and though notes can go out of the scale like I just showed you, to help you remember the first few notes you need to know, I want you to remember this.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She conjured a quill, writing next the scale the acronyms FACE and EGBDF, the latter of which she writes Every Good Boy Does Fine on. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now, I’d like you to repeat after me,” she starts, and then continues to drill the acronyms into Draco’s head, pointing out where each note goes on the scale every time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eventually, though, he is finally allowed to play. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright,” she starts, flipping to the next page, “First I’d like you to write the notes on each symbol here on the scale for me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She brings the book down so that Draco can write on it, and then hands Draco the quill she’d conjured. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Draco started writing, she explained, “This is your first song we’re going to do. Now, I’d like to warn you so that you don’t get impatient with me, that we’re going to spend a long time on this song. I want you to perfect it before we move onto the next one. But after that we will move on more quickly from songs.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The song Draco was writing one was called “Hot Pumpkin Pasties”. The scale only really had four repeating notes in it, so Draco was done very quickly, only having to correct himself once. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, now comes the most important part: how to actually play the piano. First, I’d like you to place your hands on the keys,” which Draco did at her prompting, “now make sure all of your fingers are touching a key,” which he did, “and then lift your hands up so only your fingertips are touching. Good! I’d like you to remember this position, and think of this to help you remember: you’re cradling kittens under your hands, and you can’t squash them, now can you Draco?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shook his head, looking down at his hands. He thought that this was so uncomfortable it might be worth it to squash a couple kittens. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know it’s uncomfortable and tiring, dear, but you’ll get used to it. Now I need you to place your hands here,” she moved his right hand so that his fingers were touching the right keys, “and here,” adjusting his left to a space two keys away, “Your hands won’t move from this spot on the piano for a very long time, until we get to harder songs later on, and you’ll reach the two keys in the middle with your thumbs. Do you understand?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes,” Draco responded, nodding his head. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good, now each of your fingers is on a different note,” she started, showing him which key was which note, and allowing him to practice each note by calling out a note and letting him remember which key to press. Eventually, she let him start on the song. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Draco only had to play the same four notes in the same pattern over and over, but he was absolutely mesmerized by what he was hearing. He was actually making music! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Though his mother only let him play it four more times before ending their lesson, Draco’s excitement could not be tamed. The feeling of playing the piano would not leave him for the rest of the week, until his next lesson, and for the rest of the day he swore he could feel his fingertips tingling with the sensation of the keys under them. And under his desk for the rest of the day, he continued to practice the song with only his fingers and the tune in his head. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>----------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once Draco was given a solid taste, he could not be stopped. The day after his second lesson, he snuck out of his room in the middle of the night to practice piano. He only got two hours in before he got too sleepy to continue, but even despite this and his grogginess the next day, he continued to do the same for the rest of the week. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And this pattern continued, with Draco only getting bolder. After months of playing secretly in the dead of night, Draco finally caved and started to play during his limited free time. This started his ability to actually read the music he was playing instead of just trying to memorize it, since now, in the light of day, he could actually see. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Draco astonished his mother with how fast he was progressing, but in reality Draco spent nearly every waking minute he wasn’t taking lessons playing the piano. Quicker and quicker he was learning new songs and skills, until he could play a song very well his first time seeing it, and perfectly with only a little practice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eventually, though, his piano craze died out by the time his eighth birthday rolled around, and though he kept practicing nearly religiously, he did start to spend some more of his free time outside, but his nighttime practice never stopped.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On his eighth birthday, probably the catalyst of this change, Draco met kids his own age for the first time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His parents had decided to throw a birthday party for Draco for the first time that he could remember, and they invited many influential families, including the Parkinsons and the Notts. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Both of these families had children Draco’s age, children he was expected to make friends with in order to maintain the family ties and alliances that had been extended for generations. These children were Pansy Parkinson, a spoiled young girl who tried very hard to emulate her mother, and Theodore Nott, an energetic, equally spoiled boy who loved to roughhouse and snark his elders. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Draco had nothing in common with the two of them, but he did </span>
  <em>
    <span>try </span>
  </em>
  <span>to talk to them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So what have you been doing all of this time, Draco?” Pansy asked politely. She’d been started on her etiquette lessons only a little later than Draco had, but she’d taken to them like a duck to water. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, what do you get up to in this big mansion of yours? It’s even bigger than mine!” Theodore said, brashly. He had not yet been started on etiquette lessons, and it showed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, I’ve mostly been playing the piano,” Draco started, a little shy, before launching into a long, detailed account of his music. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pansy and Theodore slowly checked out of the conversation, only Pansy offering the occasional, polite, “mhm?” and guiding question for Draco to continue with. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, though, Theodore got bored and interrupted Draco with a “Ugh, all this piano stuff is boring! Is all you do piano?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Draco’s face flushed instantly, and though he tried to stop it, he started to stutter, “N-no, I also play o-outside and do m-my lessons.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pansy took pity on him, “Oh, Theodore that was very rude. But Draco dear you should be more conscious of your guests, personally i find music lessons dreadfully boring! Let’s talk about something else.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pansy changed the topic with ease, and though there were times they said something that Draco could not relate to in any way, eventually they found a rhythm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, I find that quite confusing as well, I mean, why--” Pansy cut off, noticing her mother walking towards them with Theodore’s father.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Pansy, darling, it’s time to go,” her mother said airily. She seemed a bit tipsy, swaying a bit where she stood. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Theodore’s father, on the other hand, was completely composed, “Come along, son, the party is over.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Both of the children left, trailing after their parents and out of the parlor, towards the floo room, leaving Draco with only a short goodbye before they left. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before long, the parlor completely emptied of wizards and witches. The house elves started to pop in to clean the mess left by their guests, and Draco took this as his cue to leave. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Just as he was about to leave the parlor, though, his father beckoned him over.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Draco, I would like you to follow me,” he said shortly, before turning and walking out of the parlor and down the hall. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Draco quickly followed him, scampering quickly after him in order to catch up before carefully trailing behind him down the hallway.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Three floors down from the parlor, in the basement Draco had never been permitted to visit, his father took out and opened a long, velvet box from under a display painting of the Malfoy ancestors together in the gardens. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The air was damp and stagnant, and Draco shivered in the cold air as he fought not to cough. HIs father turned towards him, and for the second time in his life he had his father’s full attention. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This was your grandfather’s wand, which was his grandfather’s before him, and so on down the line of Malfoys’ for generations. I want you to keep good care of this, Draco, this is a priceless family artifact,” his father told him, stern. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lucius brushed his thumb against the grooved holly wood of the wand, reverent of the artifact he’d never been able to bond with, and then gently placed it in Draco’s outstretched palms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As the wand was laid across Draco’s palms, he gently curled his fingers around the length of it, rubbing his thumbs along the grooves in the wood, feeling the textures he would eventually come to know by heart. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This gentle, wondering touch pleased the wand. The last Malfoy child to touch it had snatched it out of his father’s hand and waited impatiently to be bestowed the gift of the family wand, and it was for that reason that he would never obtain it. This Malfoy child, however, revered him, patiently waiting for magic he was confident would come to him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Confidence and patience, those were the true values of a Malfoy, and therefore traits that the wand truly valued in its wizard. These were traits this boy had in spades, and a true talent that most lack. The wand was impressed, and prideful under the boy’s reverent gaze.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This was the first Malfoy in decades to truly impress him, and so, the wand eagerly bestowed this wizard with its magic. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Draco felt something stir from deep inside the wand, spreading, warm, to the rest of him, up his hand and through his chest, warming him from the inside out. For the first time, he felt truly bonded to something, truly appreciated and cared for. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A warm wind surrounded the two, stirring in a circle around them, blowing up his hair and warming the room around them. The tip of the wand started to glow, responding to Draco’s wondering delight. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lucius stared on in wonder. He’d thought his son a squib for the first seven years of his life, thinking that he’d been the one to end the Malfoy line, but now his son had bonded with the ancient Malfoy wand, and in such a powerful, complete way--as if it were a new wand fit to be Draco’s, and only his. This ancient wand had truly chosen his son.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lucius’s wonder soon turned to pride, and when the show of bonded magic finally slowed, he stepped up to Draco, and cradled his cheek gently.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He brushed his thumb over his son’s cheek, and thought of how he’d failed the boy up to this point. He’d been slow, not useless. His son was not a squib, he was a talented wizard who would restore the family name from how Lucius himself had tattered it.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Piano Man He Makes His Stand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>
    <span>Draco’s life only expanded once he was gifted the family wand. Gaining a wand is an important development in a young wizard’s life, after all, and Draco was gaining new responsibilities following this development.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Firstly, Draco suddenly had more lessons. Where before he’d only had four hours of lessons a day, after he was given the family wand Draco’s time in lessons doubled. He was now taking magic lessons, and being the most important, they were longer lessons than the etiquette and history lessons he’d been taking before. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>On top of his magic lessons, however, Draco was now taking longer, more intensive etiquette lessons as he was being allowed outside of the house more often. At least once a month, Draco was now being invited to galas and parties at different manors, mostly the Parkinson’s, and his lessons had lengthened to reflect that.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>But more than the etiquette lessons, Draco had taken it upon himself to learn how to interact with his peers. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Draco had slowly started to figure out how to socialize after the emotional disaster of his first birthday party. He’d sulked for weeks after that, thinking he’d failed at making connections the way he was taught, but then he’d gotten an invite to a Parkinson gathering in the post. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>He didn’t do quite as terribly as he did his first birthday party, but the gathering didn’t go exactly well, either. He could tell that Parkinson was bored the entire time, but he did make a few discoveries, and he was invited to the next Parkinson gala and Nott party after that, so he had a lot of learning to do if he wanted to keep it up. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>He had discovered that being too polite made him a boor, so he tried to lighten his speech a little. This had only garnered him negative attention from the adults around him, so Draco quickly fixed his language and tried to act more like Parkinson--people liked her, right? </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>He started by trying to invest himself in gossip, like she did--but that only got him weird looks from Nott. Then he tried to pay more attention to his appearance--taking care of his hair and nails better and keeping up with washing his face twice a day, that kind of thing. He even tried a little bit of makeup, and though Parkinson was delighted, Nott thought he was weird, so he stopped that very quickly. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Then he realized he needed more hobbies. He really only had lessons and piano to talk about, and though magic lessons could carry a decent conversation, he found that Nott quickly got bored of this conversation. So Draco picked up quidditch. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>He thought he liked it, but Draco wasn’t quite sure. His father assured him that he was good, but that didn’t mean that Draco really enjoyed it. He thought he might like the act of flying more than the sport, but he kept up with it anyway to impress his peers. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>And this did work, for a while. But Parkinson got bored of sports talk quickly, even though she also enjoyed the sport, as most wizards did. Not only that, but Draco started to realize that he wasn’t friends with them yet--and he couldn’t fathom why.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>He was picking up new things to impress them, so why weren’t </span>
    <em>
      <span>they </span>
    </em>
    <span>inviting him over yet? Every invite he was given was from their parents and he was never invited for anything less than a gathering his parents were invited to. He couldn’t even get them to talk to him out of their own volition, he was always the one to talk to them first. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Was he still boring? He tried to talk less about piano, and barely even mentioned it to them anymore. Maybe he was being too formal--they didn’t respond particularly well when he treated them like adults, but if he wasn’t formal and polite his parents would be disappointed in him. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Then he thought of an idea--Parkinson managed to be polite as well as friends with the children her age, so how did she do it? Even Nott had perfected this art. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>He started by studying their speech patterns--they used more contractions than Draco did, but there wasn’t too much difference there of note. Then he studied their body language--they were slightly more relaxed in posture and tended to speak with their hands on occasion, but these were hardly differences of note. Regardless of how minute the changes were though, Draco sought to implement them. He practiced in the mirror often, and when he went to speak with them at the next party, he thought he would be ready.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>But lo and behold, a new challenger had entered the group--a cold, calculating boy named Blaise Zabini. Despite his initial off-putting gaze and countenance however, Parkinson and Nott took a quick liking to him. And Draco could not fathom why.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Then he realized it--Draco really was just being too polite. Parkinson constantly gossiped, and she wasn’t nice about it. Nott was not shy about bad mouthing nobles he didn’t like, and Zabini threw barely concealed insults at every person he talked to. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>They were being rude, and mean, and downright insulting at every interval--and they bonded over it! </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Draco didn’t understand, but he knew he had to comply--and quickly, or else he would never have the chance to make a friend his age, and he would go to Hogwarts with no upstanding connections. That would be the death of him. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>So Draco quickly learned what sarcasm was--and suddenly a lot of misconceptions were cleared away. Conversation became easier, at least, but this wasn’t enough--so he tried what Zabini did. </span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <br/>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>He insulted Parkinson’s dress, to her face. He concealed it as friendly advice, basically just calling the cut and color tacky but in prettier words, and threw the insult right in her face. And though her face glowed red for a few seconds, Nott and Zabini laughed, and eventually Parkinson insulted him back--and suddenly Draco had friends.</span>
  </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Bit of a short chapter, but I wanted an interlude between the introduction and Draco at Hogwarts, as well as an establishment of Draco's character and status as a Slytherin.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Burning up his fuse out here alone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The night before Draco leaves for Hogwarts.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Three years later and Draco was wandering the halls of the manor in the middle of the night for the first time since he was five years old.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He still remembered that night, though only barely, and this night found Draco’s wanderings leading to the same place as in the past. He still remembered the feeling of his fingers gracing the ivory for the first time, how startled he was when pressing down made a sound, and the building excitement he felt as he discovered something new.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t remember much else from that night, not how it ended, what it sounded like, or even how he got out of his room in the first place. But he remembered how he felt back then. How he felt truly engaged for the first time in his life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he wanted that again. He wouldn’t be getting it for almost a whole year once he got on that train the next day, so he had to make the most of it now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the past week he’d played more than he had in years. Instead of lessons or friends, he’d spent nearly the entire week playing the piano, in preparation of losing it for a year. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After making his first group of friends, he’d found his time more and more occupied by them, and had to forcefully push the piano to the wayside. He still practiced nearly every night, but it wasn’t quite the same. And neither was he. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finally understood his place in the world. It took him long enough, but he got there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was a Malfoy. He was a noble, and of one of the most important families in the wizarding world, at that. It was practically his birthright to rule the world, and he owned it. He’d quickly integrated the manners and etiquette he’d learned at a young age with the smooth disdain and grandeur owing that of a Malfoy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d stopped rambling about his favorite topics, and learned to listen to what other people wanted to talk about. He’d learned how to gossip and keep an ear out for any new information to add to the pot, and most importantly he’d learned who to keep at a distance and how to treat those he did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But though he’d learned not to speak about it, he hadn’t been able to shake his passion. The piano became the place he came to for comfort, whenever he needed to wind down from socializing and learning how to operate people. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And in a few hours he was going to be giving that comfort up. For almost an entire year. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d been pacing the halls all night long with this thought, had been playing nonstop for a week at his thought, and now found himself in front of the music room with this thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pushing open the door, he stepped quietly into the room. He looked around, eying the windows with a view of the grounds, the bookshelves filled with music sheets, and finally, the grand piano that commanded most of the space in the room. Almost lovingly, he ran his hands along the case as he sat down at the bench. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gently, he lifted the case off the ivory and tucked it away quietly. There was already a sheet of music on the stand, but he disregarded it as his fingers, seemingly of their own accord, started to drum out a melody he had memorized. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had a lot of sheet music memorized, almost all of the sheet music he’d ever read committed to heart so that he could play it even in the dark like he did now. As he’d gotten to more complex pieces he’d memorized them less and less, and as he’d started to compose his own music, he’d needed to even less than that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His playing now was almost frantic, playing the comforting melody in as fast a tempo as his fingers could follow, trying to beat out the anxious energy in his chest with each touch of a finger on the ivory.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wants to go to school, he does. There’s nothing quite like magic, and he wants to learn more. Not only for his family, but for himself, too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But there’s also nothing quite like the piano, either. It was his comfort and one of the only things he was truly passionate about. He loved music, loved how just hearing the sound of a piano could bring him back to his happiest memories playing with his mother or soothing his frayed nerves after a stressful day.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And though he’d get to train his skill in magic, though he’d get to be with his friends and around peers his age, though he’d never have to be shut away, alone in the manor again, he would still miss his piano room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But as he finished out the last few notes of the song, he knew he’d get to come back to this over the summer. It wasn’t the end, it was just a little break. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything was fine. He needed to stop being so dramatic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He got up off the piano seat, closed the cover over the keys, and left the room, only a few minutes after he entered it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was fine, he thought to himself as walked down the hallway and back to his room. It’s only a thing, and not even an important one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d be fine. It was only a year. Then he’d get to play again for the whole summer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tried desperately to convince himself of this as he drifted off to sleep that night.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Another short chapter. Next one should be longer, and then a time skip and we'll finally be in the main story! Don't worry, I'm not going to rehash their years at Hogwarts, since there won't be any major changes until fifth year. That's where the main story takes place. See you then!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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